Of Gods and Monsters
by LadyxAbsinthe
Summary: A world upon the precipice of destruction, a girl from the future, and three unruly samurai; what could go wrong? A lot according to our heroin, but what more can a modern day girl stuck with three warriors as her self appointed protectors do but go with the flow?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

What makes a hero? What sets a person above and beyond the average mortal and rockets them into immortal memory? Conquering the seemingly unconquerable, or perhaps it is the once deemed impossible made possible. Or may be it is fearlessly rushing towards death with reckless abandon sacrificing your own self for the greater good that makes one a hero. Whatever the case may be I most certainly never fit the bill. A simple girl with simple desires was never one to wow the crowds with shows of strength or intellect, nor did I give a particular damn about the way society believed I should or shouldn't live my life.

So how did I find myself in this strange place? One minute I was in my bed sleeping peacefully before I was shaken awake and dragged through the halls of my ancestral castle. Given no forewarning or time to argue as the pop of gunfire and agony laced screams filled the air I was mounted upon my monstrously huge horse a package thrust into my hands and rushed from the scene as fire began to greedily swallow the old building with a roaring crackle that shook the midnight air. Terrified and confused we rode into the black forest that surrounded my home the shouts of strangers nipping at our heels only adding to the confusion. Why were they here why had our home been set ablaze. The bundle in my arms was heavy and oblong wrapped in a ratty cloth that had long since seen better days. The thunder of horses hooves rattled the earth as trees flew past my peripheral view nothing but a blur lost to the chaos as the voices trailing us began to fall farther and farther away until I couldn't hear them and the light from the flames became a distant haze on the horizon. "I think we lost them D'Artagnan," I sighed with no small amount of relief as the black stallion beneath me slowed to a gentle trot. Now as the adrenaline started to fade and my heart slowly returned to a steadier rhythm I could feel the brisk chill against the bare skin of my arms and legs, my toes having long since gone numb. "What the hell is going on why were those guys after us?" D'Artagnan snorted pawing at the ground as his magnificent mane of pitch black hair danced in the breeze. "Whatever the case may be we have to get to town," that said we set off at a quick pace once more when out of the darkness a flash of silver was the only warning I had when burning pain cut through my leg, throwing me to the ground with a merciless thud. Breathless and stunned by the fall I lay wide eyed staring into the shadows of the tree tops helpless to the predator's approach, the dry grass crunching beneath heavy boots. Distantly I could hear D'Artagnan whinny in the background as the shadow of my assailant fell upon me; the harbinger of my doom. "Even now you cling to that sword, truly you are a fool or is your loyalty that great? Doesn't matter now," the voice belonged to a man his eyes seeming to glow with an eerie light as I stared up at the man I was sure was going to be my death.

I didn't have the breath to fight let alone run, the reaper had come for me and I could do nothing as the fear of my end stared me down from the face of this stranger. Vision blurred I hadn't even realized I had begun to cry or perhaps it was the blood loss as I gasped for breath desperately clutching the object (a sword as he had claimed?) to my breast. "Why are you doing this? Why are you hurting my family?!"

Yes why was this happening. We didn't do any thing to any one we got on fine with our neighbors society barely knew of our existence. This was the 21st century for Christ's sake! The days of Clans destroying one another had long since passed, so the only remaining thing to do was to ask: why.

The man grinned more so a baring of teeth that had the light of the moon glinting off his pearly whites deepening the shadows that masked his face. "Why you ask? Don't you recognize my voice at all Britannia? After all with your death I'll have everything that was rightfully mine in the first place!" Looking closer I noted the blond hair and silvery eyes not unlike Grandpa's set into what would have been a fairly handsome if not common face the most distinct feature a large burn scar that curved along the left side of his jaw.

"Markus?!"

"Aye ya wee whore! Didn't think you'd be seeing me again did you?"

"You're supposed to be in prison!" I roared passed the pain in my leg righteous outrage giving me the strength to sit up and throw a punch at his middle that he easily sidestepped and I was laid helpless at his feet again. "Ha! As though I'd stay in such a rat whole, not while you're still out breathing free air! I'm going to slice you from that pretty little cunt to ya throat," blade raised over head I could do nothing but watch as it descended in a silver arch through the air when D'Artagnan in all his dark glory came thundering from the shadows throwing the grown man aside like so much meat and began to prance upon Markus' prone form filling the air with the gruesome sounds of crunching bone, heavy breathing, gurgled cries for mercy and splattering blood. "D'Artagnan stop please! That's enough he's dead just stop!" I wasn't crying for that monster, but I could feel the dizziness set in the longer I sat there the pain from my sliced leg growing more apparent by the minute.

The hulking beast turned with a final snort tossing his head before coming to my side head bent to sniff at the blood soaked appendage. "It's fine my love, but we have to go before his compatriots show up to finish me off." Large dark eyes gazed upon me as he knelt beside me allowing for me to climb on his bare back with slightly more easy though with my wound I was unable to straddle him as I normally would so settled for laying across his back like a sack.

"Head to town D'Artagnan, you know the way right?" Redundant to ask a creature a question they couldn't answer but I'd been talking to him in such a fashion for so long I doubt I'd be able to break the habit even if I wanted to, and I didn't.

Slowly I began to drift in and out of consciousness seeing and not seeing as we passed the trees at a steady gait when there was a sudden change to the air. You know the sensation of being watched, the small hairs along the back of your neck stand on end and the air begins to feel heavy with a certain kind of instinctive dread? Gone was the crisp predawn air the smell of moist earth and the copper tang of blood replaced by an almost antiseptic tang and the quiet thud of D'Artagnan's hooves suddenly hitting hard ground not unlike asphalt, the clicking of his horseshoes ringing loud as a jackhammer. Befuddled I opened eyes I hadn't realized I'd closed, taking in the sight afore us.

A white hallway lined with doors greeted me. Where it not for the bizarre doors that stood sentinel I would have thought we'd ridden into a hospital the walls and floor were so sterile and white. "Next," a monotone voice drew my eyes to the center of this strange place. The owner of the voice was a bland looking man with slightly too large blue eyes framed by thick glasses, surrounded by what I liked to call "organized chaos" odd little things from different eras taking up the surface. "What the fuck desk jockey," was the first thing out of my mouth.

He didn't say anything for a long moment as he grabbed a fountain pen from an overflowing mug, proceeding to write something down. I didn't get a chance to demand much more when the stone door next to us opened and a vacuuming pressure drug both D'Artagnan and I into its darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Upon waking I found myself cradled amongst a copse of trees, it was a peaceful scene with birds filling the air with their song and the distant bubbling of a nearby stream. "Was that strange place just a dream?" Mumbling to myself probably wasn't the most sane thing to do but no one was around to care anyway. As I lay in the tall grass I made a mental note of my condition; bone deep exhaustion, dryness of the mouth and lips, a head stuffed with cotton like disorientation and a deep throbbing ache in my left thigh. Overall it seemed I had survived the night if not worse for wear. Looking closer at my injury I took in the sight of the now brownish stains on my skin and once creme colored pj shorts, beyond salvaging at this point, but it seemed that the bleeding had stopped for now, sighing I took the end of my tank top in hand and began to work at ripping off enough of the fabric (with much lip biting, a few grunts of effort and no short supply of cursing) I managed to at last wrap the gaping cut in my leg, hopefully before something decided to nest inside or it became infected. Although I knew that wouldn't hold for long it'd have to do for now, or at least until I could get to town. Next to the the wounded appendage lay the cursed parcel Grandpa had forced into my hands the ragged cloth now stain with my blood as well.

"What could cause so much ruckus beyond Markus' own stupidity." I wondered briefly if I shouldn't just leave the accursed thing where it lay and leave it to rot, but then I thought of the man who raised me and how deeply he'd be hurt should he ever find out I'd left a precious artifact of national history just laying around out in the open. Sighing I settled for removing the now useless fabric revealing to the light of day what had given me so much grief.

A sword lay bare, almost as long as I was tall (granted I was short as fuck anyway barely topping off at five foot.) The years had left the metal coated in a thick layer of rust and dirt, it was impossible to see the value of it at this point.

"The fuck? This is what I almost died for?!" Temporarily blind with rage I grabbed the cursed thing and flung it across the small space, "this is some class A bull shit! How dare they fight over something so useless, it's not even usable any more than a blunt stick is; to hell if it is the legendary King's Excalibur!" Growling I threw myself back to the ground wincing as my body throbbed as one giant bruise causing me to sigh and resign myself to the situation. "Whatever the case may be, I don't care what it takes those bastards are going to pay in flesh and coin for what they did. I'm going to take everything from them!" Glaring at the canopy of leaves overhead I began to feel myself drift off when the enraged cries that could only belong to one creature rolled through the air like the crack of a whip.

A mengeling of fear and panic shot through me as my mind raced, had those that were working with Markus finally caught up with us? For they must have been working _with_ him as opposed to _for_ him, the man was not the sharpest tool in the shed and lacked the funds himself to pay for what seemed to have been a small army. "D'Artagnan," temporarily forgetting the injury to my leg I made to stand only to crash to the earth as the muscles in my leg spasmed harshly, dragging a ragged scream from parched lips as my hands clutched the quivering flesh in a desperate bid to make it stop.

Pain riddled as I was I didn't even notice the approach of more people until a large pair of hands made to grab at me. Screaming, and running purely on instinct, I struck out only to be caught and pinned. Terrified I gazed upon my assailant and was immediately dumbstruck by his appearance. Short dark hair that looked as though it had never seen a comb a day in his life and silvery eyes set against tan skin covered in red armor; reminiscent of the samurai of the Sengoku era. Upon his vermillion armor was a series of small circles split into quarters, a clan symbol perhaps? However before I could think on it further the strange man began to speak some gibberish. I had no clue what he was saying. When I didn't respond his face grew dark and his grip (which at first had been, if not gentle, was firm) became a steel trap sparking another wave of fear that had me crying out for D'Artagnan once more.

A ruckus was heard in the distance drawing the man's attention from me for a second. Just long enough for me to punch him in the throat. It was quite dramatic I noted distantly as he fell back coughing and sputtering, trying desperately to catch his breath as I crawled back from the stunned man as much as was possible with my limited mobility. His comrades (also dressed in a similar eastern fashion) came to his side as D'Artagnan came barreling down on us practically frothing at the mouth. The sound the beast made was as close to a roar as I had ever heard from him, even more so than when I had first met the temperamental creature so many years ago. "D'Artagnan hold your position," the shout dragged into a coughing fit as I lay on the ground leg throbbing in time with my pulse; damn Markus to the deepest pits of hell! I wished he was still alive so I could watch D'Artagnan grind that miserable pig into the dirt again!

When I returned from my black thoughts I took in the standoff between us and the strange group of men. As I gazed upon the group I noticed something peculiar about the majority of the men's features. They were all blond and had… pointed ears. "What the holy fuck! What did I get caught up in; a poorly planned fantasy LARP?!"

"Not quite I'm afraid."

"And who the fuck are you? Some poorly dressed albino hooker by the looks of it," seriously the girl looked like she had never seen the sun a day in her life. The girl didn't appear much older than myself with long silvery hair pulled into pigtails tied with pink bows and a bizarre uniform that sported booty shorts (not that she had much in the way of an ass as it was) and a top that was reminiscent of a military style that accentuated her ridiculously huge boobs. All in all I wasn't impressed with what I saw. "I'm not a hooker! I'm a magician with the Octobrist organization, my name is Olminu."

"What the hells an Octoboob?"

"It's Octobrist! Good god you're as bad as that letch," at that an older man (I estimated him to be some where between his late thirties to early forties) shouted something in the same gibberish as the man I had struck.

Tall with long messy black hair and an eye patch, sun kissed skin and a smattering of stubble across his jaw. In his youth he may have been a handsome man but that salacious expression on his face made him pedo creepy. D'Artagnan grunted pawing at the ground as he fidgeted between me and this odd group of people, discontent with the raised voices and so many strangers, but like the finely trained beast he was remained where he was. Suddenly the man in red was apart of the situation again, obviously having recovered his breath, and began making demands of the woman.

"How the hell should I know that?! Of course she's a Drifter just look at her clothes!"

"Oi what do my clothes have to do with anything? And I'm not a drifter; I happen to be Britannia Christie heir to the Christie Clan estate not some bum off the street!"

"That's not what I meant, what time period and country are you from?" At this she looked exasperated as she dug through her bag throwing odd little pieces of paper into the air, looking for something, "2017, Ireland."

"Ah here put this on-"

"D'Artagnan fetch," I decided to humor the poorly dressed girl folding one arm across my bare stomach while reaching out and making a grabbing motion with the other; not unlike a toddler before they learn the appropriate way to ask. Obediently the black as pitch beast moved forward cautiously, snout extended; tense silence followed as the men watched the horse's approach, waiting for the worst to happen. After a moment of sniffing the paper he took it in his mouth gently before with a quiet snort and toss of his luscious mane returned to my side, docile as could be. Taking the object I noted the thin foreign writing done in a reddish ink. "And just what the fuck am I supposed to do with this?" Confused I looked from the girl to the paper and back, seriously what was I supposed to do, eat the damn thing? "Ugh put it on your shirt you'll be able to understand everyone here."

No longer in the mood to argue further I stuck it to the front of my shirt. Nothing happened, no sudden combustion or sense of comprehension for the mysteries of the universe: bummer.

"So what now Octobreast?"

"Damn it it's Octobrist! Just call me by my name, Olminu. OL-MEEN!" The girl looked so tired I'd almost feel bad for her if I was in more of a mood to care. "Enough of this we don't have time to waste standing here talking all day! The rest of you get back to work, as for you girl how did you end up here?" The man in red looked peeved, understandable but it was his own fault, I mean who approaches an injured person with such a devil-may-care attitude? I kinda wanna throat punch him again… "My family's castle was attacked in the middle of the night, and I was made to flee with that useless hunk of metal there." I dismissively waved towards where I had tossed the artifact. "But as D'Artagnan and I were making our way through the woods I was attacked," here I gently laid a hand upon the cloth wrapped thigh, "before my attacker could do much else D'Artagnan ground the pathetic beast into the earth. Quite gross really," I add as an afterthought. Cautiously the smallest member of the human group ( a super pretty guy? Or were they a girl?) stepped around the gathering careful to avoid the horse as they did so, although D'Artagnan followed them with careful eyes. "It's just a useless sword, perhaps the blacksmiths can salvage it but it's unlikely." Their voice held an airy borderline feminine quality that just made me believe they were in fact female that much more. "Tch why would a man send his kin off with a weapon that can't even be used."

"It doesn't make sense I agree."

"Well of course it doesn't make sense to you, you're a foreigner. My Grandfather spent his whole life looking for that sword, for any proof really of a legendary king named Arthur."

"Now why would anyone do that?" Exasperated I pinched the bridge of my nose taking a moment to gather what little patience I had left. "That doesn't matter right now, she's still injured and needs to be treated!" Surprisingly Olminu was the voice of reason in that instance dragging a long suffering sigh from Toyohisa. "She's right call off your demon mount and come with us. We'll see the both of you feed and your injuries tended." What was with these people? I didn't understand them in the least but at this moment I didn't have much of a choice, if I didn't go with them I would die of exposure for sure. "Any funny business and I'll feed you to my horse," as though to backup my claim D'Artagnan snorted head bouncing up and down causing his lucious mane to dance. "Horse? I thought that damn thing was an yokai…"

"Tch how rude you people are, D'Artagnan is a warhorse of slightly questionable breeding… But that's not the point! He's the most loyal companion ever! Better than some stupid man that's for sure," before further argument could break out I signaled for the aforementioned equine to kneel down, climbing upon his great back as I did so. The injury to my leg made it impossible to sit any other way but side saddle, although far more ladylike it was a less stable position to be in as far as I was concerned with, especially since I was lacking a saddle horn to grope onto. The ride back was mostly silent amongst the group, myself being much too tired to interrogate the oddballs I found company in and they wrapped up in their own thoughts.

Without realizing it I had begun to drift off, the stress finally catching up, distantly catching an alarmed voice before blacking out completely.


End file.
